


Put Your Hands on Me

by WebbedUpKatanas



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Glove Kink, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WebbedUpKatanas/pseuds/WebbedUpKatanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade leaves his gloves behind and Peter would have to be a much stronger man to resist doing what he does with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Put Your Hands on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless self-indulgent glove kink ahoy!

Everything seems very serene to Peter in the first few minutes after Wade has left his house. It’s like the storm has passed; like the world is trying to balance out his excitable presence with a few moments of complete and utter peace.

He misses him already.

What he doesn’t miss is the fact that Deadpool is now running around in the world sans one part of his snazzy red outfit. Wade’s gloves are perched on the edge of his couch innocently, as though they want to distance themselves from Wade’s excitability by being as serene and unobtrusive as possible.

Peter studiously avoids them.

He’ll just hold on to them until he sees Wade next, he thinks as he goes about his business, brushing his teeth and preparing for bed. They can just sit on his couch until then.

So he’s not sure how to explain why he brings them with him to bed.

Wade’s gloves sit heavy in the palm of his hand, and for a few quiet moments they are all Peter can think about. It’s as though his entire world has narrowed down to focus solely on the red scraps of fabric that the merc has left behind.

“He might come back for them,” he says aloud to the empty bedroom. Predictably no one answers back.

“He’ll probably be back any minute…I can’t just…” he tapers off, staring hard at the stupid gloves and wishing he hadn’t been put in this stupid compromising situation.

Because this isn’t the first time he’s been fascinated by these particular objects.

Deadpool changes his costume minutely so often that there have been quite a few different pairs of gloves he’s ended up…lusting over isn’t the right term. It really really isn’t. He just appreciates the subtle nuances of other people’s costumes. Just a totally heterosexual interest in spandex, nothing else.

With a guilty glance around the bedroom he slips them on.

They just feel like gloves. Nothing special, nothing too different between these and his own, except that this pair belongs to Wade.

Which makes it so easy to imagine the red clothed hands are Wade’s as they begin to map out the expanse of his naked chest.

It’s not wrong, he’s just… trying to get into Wade’s twisted mind. It’s a character study through roleplay he reasons. He barely even manages to convince himself.

His real motives become abundantly clear as one gloved hand tweaks a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. It feels good. Different somehow when there’s a scrap of fabric blocking skin on skin contact.

Looking down it suddenly becomes harder to breathe, because the hand touching him looks so much like Wade’s.

“I should stop,” he says to the gloved hands, though of course they can’t respond. One begins the journey down his stomach to brush a fingertip into the hair leading down into his boxers.

“I should just… call Wade. Give these back to him,” he tries a little louder, but his gloved hands seem to have a mind of their own as the one continues tweaking his nipple and the other skims down under the waistband.

“I really really shouldn’t be doing this,” he whines, but his hand has already reached the base of his rapidly hardening erection, and it feels too amazing to stop.

In his mind he imagines Wade leaning over him, smirk set firmly in place as his eyes rake Peter’s body.

“What do you want?” imaginary Wade asks, his voice deep and smoky and even more gravelly than usual.

“Touch me,” he replies, the sound of his voice surprising him momentarily. He sounds just a thin edge away from desperate like he needs Wade now, consequences be damned.

The Wade of his fantasy prompts him to remove his boxers fully, and he does, revelling in the feeling as the gloves accidentally brush his legs.

“Holy-” Peter runs the tips of his fingers up his length, gasping at the feeling of spandex fingertips finally stroking him. Sure the hands touching him are his own, but this is the closest he can get to an actual encounter with Wade.

The gloves wrap around his cock to pull him off slowly, with only the lightest amount of pressure to start.

He’s had this fantasy before, so the filth he imagines pouring from Wade’s mouth comes as no surprise.

“Look at you, so needy you can’t even wait until I take my gloves off can you? I bet you’d beg me if I stopped touching you, wouldn’t you?”

The worst part is that Wade’s voice in his mind has just the slightest edge of astonishment, and that is simultaneously flattering and heartbreaking because he’ll never hear Wade talk to him like that in real life. After all Wade has gone out of his way to make it abundantly clear that all of his advances and complements are jokes.

“Oh,” he whispers, running the palm of his gloved hand over the head of his cock a few times. “Yeah, Wade.”

“I want to touch every inch of you,” his fantasy Wade purrs into his ear, and Peter’s hand is quick to obey, sliding over his skin with all the wicked intent he imagines Wade would have, touching every muscle and every soft patch of heated flesh.

“I want you desperate for me Peter. I want you to need me, to ache for me. I want you to tell me how much you want me,” Wade demands, and Peter tightens his grip on his cock with a needy whine.

“I want you Wade, please. I need you. Don’t stop touching me,” he whispers, flushing red at the fact that he’s actually said it out loud.

“Go slow,” he reminds himself as the sensation builds to a point where it’s hard to keep his hand going at a steady pace. To distract himself he goes back to imagine Wade’s face as he stands over him, watching him as he jerks him off. The dark eyes set deep in that scarred face are blazing in his mind’s eye, and he’s smiling in a way that is entirely predatory, which send shivers down Peter’s spine.

“Suck,” fantasy Wade orders as Peter’s gloved fingers trace the wet line of his lips. He opens his mouth and slides them in, half afraid they will taste like blood. Instead they taste spicy, like Mexican food, and that reminds him more than anything else that these are Wade’s glove in his mouth and Wade’s glove touching his cock and jerking him off.

He moans around the two fingers filling his mouth as he laves at the cloth with his tongue, and finds himself suddenly on the edge of orgasm. He lets go of his cock quickly, eager to prolong the experience because he may never get this chance again.

He just lays there breathing hard through his nose for a moment and staring at the ceiling as he tries to relax. He tries to concentrate on the fingers in his mouth instead of giving in to the pounding need to touch himself. Sucking hard so that his cheeks hollow he envisions Wade’s cock, imagining what it would be like to do this to him. His hand drifts back to his erection to start stroking again, faster and with a tighter grip than before.

His fingers slide out of his mouth damp with saliva, and return to his nipple to rub at the hard nub. By now he’s panting and trembling, his hips rising and falling so that he’s fucking up into his own fist, pretending it’s Wade’s mouth.

Peter’s eyes slide shut of their own accord and he has to grit his teeth to keep from being loud enough that his neighbours hear. The spit-slicked glove trails down to his side and he lifts his hips so that he can grab his ass, imagining it’s Wade squeezing him instead.

“I want you to come apart Petey. I want to fuck you hard, and kiss every single inch of you, and make you come all over yourself for me” Wade breathes. Peter lets his gloved fingers dip down to tease at his hole. He has to bite his lip hard to keep from shouting out, and his thrust into his hand become uncoordinated as the fingertip presses just barely into him.

“W-Wade, please,” he begs, his hand tightening as it begins to stroke faster, the fabric slippery and slightly dampened by precome. He opens his eyes and seeing what looks like Wade’s hand around his cock is enough to tip the scale and have him coming as his body gives a shaky jerk and the glove keeps moving to prolong the pleasure.

He’s running his fingers through the mess on his stomach before he realizes that he’s still wearing the gloves.

“Shit!” Peter scrambles to sit up, inspecting the glove with a sinking feeling. He’s going to have to wash them, which hadn’t really occurred to him when he’d started.

“What’s wrong with me,” he groans pathetically, pulling off the soiled gloves. This is five hundred kinds of bad and wrong.

In the lazy aftermath of his orgasm he just wants to sleep, but he knows he should wash them despite how reluctant he is to leave his bed.

“Hey Petey I forgot my-” Wade’s voice makes Peter jump and let out a girly scream. But it’s not the scream that stops Wade speaking (although he knows he’ll tease him for it later). His eyes are locked on Peter, naked and covered in come with Wade’s gloves sitting bright, red and incriminating on his chest.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” he asks, his voice high and ashamed. He’s pretty sure his blush covers over ninety percent of his body at the moment, and speaking of covering bodies… Peter yanks the sheets up over him.

Wade is still standing in the doorway silent as the grave, which might be an apt metaphor because surely he’s going to kill him.

“Listen-” Peter starts, but Wade holds up a bare hand, cutting him off.

“Petey,” he growls, “Please don’t tell me this is not what it looks like.”

His voice is like thunder, and Peter flinches as he gets closer, preparing himself for the beating he’s about to receive.

“Because I have never ever wanted it to be exactly what it looks like more than I do right now,” Wade adds with a lecherous grin.


	2. Put Your Hands on Me Too

“So, you were jerking off with my gloves right? This isn’t Pool-o-Vision or some other plot device that ends up making my life a living hell?” Wade asks, still fairly stunned.

It isn’t every day you walk in on the aftermath of what appears to have been a very kinky, very enjoyable masturbation session, one in which your gloves seem to have been the main attraction.

Peter’s not sure what the heck Pool-o-Vision is, but he pushes past the confusion as Wade gives him a long, slow once-over, his eyes lingering just a few seconds too long on his crotch beneath the thin sheet.

“I was- um. I wasn’t doing… that I just…” Peter curses his bad luck and the fact that Wade has caught him in post-orgasm brain malfunction mode.

“So… all that come, and my gloves… that’s just a coincidence?” Wade asks, not even trying to hide the way he’s looking at Peter like he wants to devour him.“If you weren’t jerking off then…oh my god!! We’re you fingering yourself?” he squeals, astounded. Peter’s blush is suddenly in danger of setting off the fire alarm.

“No- I mean not really, just… oh God where are the super villain attacks when you need them,” Peter groans, burying his face in his hands. Unfortunately the movement causes the come-stained gloves to slide off of the bed and onto the floor, landing with a far louder and more purposeful thump than a pair of gloves should be able to manage.

Wade tears his eyes away from Peter, which is difficult when the man is sitting there completely naked with only a sheet between him and the world, and stares down at the gloves thoughtfully.

“Were you imagining my fingers?” he asks quizzically. Peter groans again, louder, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“You were weren’t you? Wearing my gloves and imagining they were my fingers closed around your cock,” Wade leers now, stepping closer. He’s not sure, but he thinks Peter might still be hard. That or he’s getting hard again. Either way the slight tenting of the sheets bodes well for the guy’s stamina. Stamina that Wade will hopefully be able to put to the test.

“This is not a conversation I’m having naked. Just- go in the other room for a sec and let me think up a suitable excuse,” Peter sighs, not surprised that Wade appears to be ignoring him and hasn’t moved to leave.

“Do you think about me naked a lot Petey?” he asks teasingly, approaching the bed and chuckling as Peter tries to shuffle to the opposite corner without dislodging the sheets. “You could have just asked me for my gloves you know. You didn’t have to steal them,” he adds cheerfully, enjoying the way that Peter is blushing and stammering in indignation.

“I didn’t steal-” Wade quiets him with a finger to his lips, which Peter goes momentarily crosseyed to see. It’s disarmingly cute, especially when he’s trying to seduce him.

“I suppose I should count my blessings. At least you haven’t been stealing my panties… or have you?”

“I could have gone my entire life without knowing you wear panties, thanks for that,” Peter gripes, turning his face away to break Wade’s contact with his lips, covering his blazing red face with his hands.

“You’re surprised?”

“No just disturbed,” Peter chuckles. When Wade sits down on the bed Peter stiffens slightly, leaning away more.

Wade walks his scarred fingertips across the space between them, tapping them up his leg to brush gently at his thigh.

“Stop Wade,” Peter tries to twitch away, but he’d reached the edge of the bed, and bar falling on his ass naked on the floor, there’s nowhere left to go.

“Stop what?” Wade asks him seriously. For the first time during this entire situation he considers the idea that maybe Peter doesn’t want him. It’s possible the kid just has a thing for gloves. Or maybe a fantasy version of Wade is easier to stomach than the actual freak-show standing before him.

“Don’t… just don’t tease me about this okay. It’s bad enough you walked in when you did, I don’t need you mocking me too,” Peter huffs, glaring at his lap and looking entirely ashamed of himself.

He doesn’t consciously reach out to Peter, it just sort of happens. Suddenly he’s holding Peter’s chin and turning his face towards him. “Were you really imagining my hands Pete?”

The other man nods miserably.

“How about feeling the real things?” he asks, with the barest hint of uncertainty.

Peter eyes him suspiciously. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asks, angry until Wade’s hand trails down his neck in a gentle caress that feels pretty darn serious.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined touching you,” Wade breathes. “How many times I’ve touched myself imagining your hands on my cock.”

Peter makes a soft surprised sound as Wade’s hands slide down to brush gently against his skin, slowly inching the sheet down and giving him plenty of time to stop him. Only Peter doesn’t seem to want to.

In fact, he’s been hard since the moment Wade started his infuriating teasing.

“So no Pete. I’m not joking,” Wade says and then they’re kissing, deeply with far too much tongue, and it’s better than any fantasy either of them could have come up with.

Wade’s hands get busy tracing the various scars Peter has on his chest before divesting him of the sheet. Peter Parker naked and hard and panting is a sight he’s never going to forget. He’s flushed and nervous, but rock hard and sure in his movements as he tugs at the hem of Wade’s shirt, urging him to take it off.

Wade only hesitates a second before tearing his clothes off and throwing them off the bed. Peter looks his fill, which would be uncomfortable if he didn’t look like he wanted to taste every inch of Wade’s body, focusing with embarrassing determination on Wade’s rapidly hardening cock.

Wade swallows nervously, snaking a hand out to rest against Peter’s chest, his fingers splayed out on his left pec. It’s hard to wrap his head around actually touching Peter’s skin, letting his hand drift down over a peaked nipple to drift over his abs, feeling the hard muscle with a sigh of happiness. Peter arches into his touch encouragingly, his own hands tugging at Wade’s hips in an attempt to get him close enough to really get things going.

He ends up half in Peter’s lap, which turns out to be a great development as the way their cocks slide against each other is absolutely heavenly. Wade pants hard against Peter’s mouth when the other man starts shifting, rubbing their lengths together over and over. Peter bites down on a whine, refusing to make a sound even though he can’t stop his hips from thrusting, seeking out more of the divine friction.

He almost breaks his no whining rule when Wade leans away for a distressing moment, before returning with his gloves held in his hand.

“Put them on,” he commands. From the way Peter’s face falls it’s clear to see that this turn of events wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.

“They’re gross!” Peter blurts, eyeing them with disgust. Wade has to laugh. “And whose fault is that?” he asks. Peter smacks his arm away, glaring at him with a pout of his kiss reddened lips.

“I want to watch you touch yourself,” Wade says, thrusting them at him insistently. “Show me all the dirty little things you were doing before I showed up,” he adds with an evil grin, delighted by Peter’s look of terror.

“I… really?” he squeaks, reaching out to grab the cleanest glove and examine it closely.

“Yeah, well I figure you owe me,” Wade replies with a smirk. “After all these were my good gloves. Only ones I have left that haven’t been torn to shreds.” He sets the other glove down, never tearing his eyes away from Peter, who tentatively slides the glove onto his hand.

He flexes his fingers and Wade groans, his cock twitching in excited anticipation.

Now it’s Peter’s turn to smirk, but the sheer level of smug on his face doesn’t matter as much as the gloved hand sliding up and down his thigh, just barely brushing his balls with each upward slide.

After what seems like years of sexually frustrating toying Peter finally moves to touch his cock, running his fingertips down it in a nervous tease. Wade licks his lips when the fingers tease at his balls, his mouth going dry at the sight as Peter finally closes his fingers around his length and begins to move his hand. He’s not slow about it either, a mixture of nerves and desperation pushing him to a quick pace within seconds.

Wade bites down on a groan, mostly so he can listen to the shuddery, breathy little sounds Peter is making as he jerks himself off. The other man’s head is thrown back, his mouth parted slightly as he palms heavily at the head of his cock, relishing in the feeling of the gloves against his skin, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to feel again.

Wade wonders if he’s still sensitive from the last round of gloved masturbation. From the way he’s trembling and biting his lip he thinks he must be. His own hand strays down between his legs, copying the motions and speed of Peter’s hand.

They both moan simultaneously when Peter tilts his head back down to stare at Wade’s hand pumping his cock along to his own frantic rhythm. “God Wade,” he groans, pausing momentarily to move closer, pulling Wade up further into his lap and kissing him deeply.

“Give me the glove,” Wade demands, letting go of his cock reluctantly to pick the other one up off the bed.

“Thought you wanted to watch me touch myself,” Peter pants back, resting his forehead against Wade’s as he tries to catch his breath.

“Changed my mind, I want to touch you with them on,” Wade growls, but Peter is shaking his head before he can even finish the sentence.

“I want to feel your skin,” Peter tells him quietly. “At least… this time I do,” he adds, with a shy smirk. Smirking shyly shouldn’t even be possible but damn does Peter ever make it look good. Being a photography nerd must be contagious because Wade wants nothing more than to snap a picture of Peter looking so smug and debauched, lying on the bed naked and hard for him.

He must have been staring for too long because the next thing he knows Peter has grabbed his head and is kissing him hard. He loses the other glove somewhere, distracted by the feeling of Peter’s tongue in his mouth and his lips moving against his own. But even the mind melting kiss isn’t enough to distract him long from the excitement of being able to reach down and take ahold of Peter’s cock.

Peter gasps, his eyes going wide as he leans back for a better look.

“So?”

“What?” Peter asks distractedly, staring raptly at Wade’s hand closed around his erection.

“How does it look?” Wade asks, sliding his hand down brutally slowly, savouring each second as Peter gasps and his muscles clench in a desperate attempt to not thrust up into the feeling. “This how you imagined it?”

Peter doesn’t even realize he’s shaking his head no until he looks up from the mesmerizing sight in his lap to Wade’s confused face. “This is better,” he croaks. Wade seems to like that judging by his expression and the way his hand starts pumping faster.

Being quiet during this type of thing is the norm for Peter. After all, he was a superpowered, super-hormonal teenage boy with a bedroom two doors down from his aunt. Being quiet was necessary in the pursuit of pleasure, and some habit died hard even when it was someone else doing the touching. But something about Wade makes him reckless, brings out an wild abandon that he didn’t know he had in him. The noises he is making now are positively sinful but he can’t stop, and he has to admit that gasping brokenly and moaning Wade’s name is pretty damn hot.

“Touch yourself too,” Peter demands, needing to see Wade fall apart as well. Wade groans and lines his own cock up, taking them both in hand, which is ten thousand times better than everything that’s come before.

“God, Pete. Gonna come soon,” Wade manages to rasp as he palms them both. He can barely breathe, barely think as the pleasure builds up, taking him higher and higher until the world disappears under an overwhelming rush of pleasure. He comes with an utterly wrecked groan, panting as he keeps his hand moving on their cocks.

Peter feels like he’s going to die.

Maybe he is, because with the way Wade’s hand is now slicked and slippery as he palms Peter’s erection, he’s not sure he would even notice if his spider senses went off. Hell Doc Ock could burst through the wall and he’d keep bucking up into that tight wet hand, even under the threat of tentacles that are in no way as sexy in real life as the internet makes them look.

Wade kisses his neck, biting lightly, and Peter comes, his gloved and ungloved hand gripping Wade’s shoulder tight enough to bruise. He looks adorable just after he’s come, with two red spots high on his cheeks, and his hair messy and sticking up at odd angles on one side from Wade running his hand through it.

“That was… not what I expected to happen,” Peter laughs, slumping forward slightly onto Wade’s chest.

“Oh. You wanted some different glove lovin’?” Wade asks, briefly stroking Peter’s hair affectionately. “Well, lucky for you I’ve got an endless list! Let’s see… spanking with gloves on, or…oh you could stuff one in my mouth as a gag or-” Peter presses three of his gloved fingers over Wade’s mouth in panic. This backfires slightly when Wade just nods enthusiastically and makes a happy little hum that somehow still manages to turn Peter on despite his exhaustion.

“No Wade. Sleep time. I’m tired,” Peter admonishes, pushing him away with a fond smile.

“Wow, buzzkill. I’m gonna go watch porn on your tv,” Wade says with a wave, hopping up off the bed.

The stab of hurt in Peter’s chest lessens when Wade returns a minute later with a warm washcloth, cleaning the come off of Peter’s stomach and spent cock gently, making his breath hitch as it comes in contact with the sensitive skin.

“You’re not watching porn?” he asks, shuddering as Wade takes his time, lingering with the washcloth, and an evil grin.

“Nah, I checked, I’ve seen it all. Twice. Three times in some cases.” He tosses the cloth off the bed, taking in the sight of Peter’s naked body with something bordering on reverence. “Don’t wanna miss the show in here again either.”

Peter pulls him in for a kiss, and it’s so unexpected that Wade can’t help but melt against him, all the tension and uncertainty he’s been feeling since he left the room leaving his body as he wraps his arms around Peter’s neck.

“Next show is tomorrow,” Peter tells him firmly, pulling away before kissing starts to heat up too much.

Wade tries his hardest to keep his whining to a minimum. After all, he’s thrilled Peter even wants to do this again, and he’s not stupid enough to jeopardize the chance to do this again.

At least, he thinks he isn’t.

“Hey, so wait, is it just the gloves, or are you into using other bits of my costume in kinky ways? Because I’m having a few ideas of things we could do with my guns… oh and I bet we could use the hilt of my katana to- mhp!”

Turns out he is.

Having your mouth webbed shut at close range hurts. It’s also just plain rude.

Sheesh, give a guy an awesome hand job and he thwips you in the mouth. Wade would take revenge but it’s just too low, even for him, to beat up a guy who’s currently using him as a giant teddy bear.

And now of course his hands are pinned by sleeping Spidey.

Oh well the webbing should dissolve by morning. And if not he’ll just have to break his own rule about mimes and make it very clear to Peter all the fun things he wants to do with his mouth. He bets the webbing will come off real quick after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow I never realized I foreshadowed the katana fic I wrote later. My kinks were showing even back when I wrote this weren't they?


End file.
